pointlessly random and far too close
by fiesa
Summary: He says "I hate you" to Kiyoshi and "I like you" to Riko, and somehow both means the same. OneShot- Hyuuga/Kiyoshi/Riko. On distances – between missed shots, dreams and people. Rated T for minimal bits and pieces of language.


**pointlessly random and far too close**

 _Summary: He says "I hate you" to Kiyoshi and "I like you" to Riko, and somehow both means the same. OneShot- Hyuuga/Kiyoshi/Riko. On distances – between missed shots, dreams and people. Rated T for minimal bits and pieces of language._

 _Warning: Hyuuga/Kiyoshi/Riko threesome. (Consider yourself warned.) Will probably be my one and only Kuroko no Basket fan fiction. Rated for language. A bit of AU-ishness in the Fourth Quarter._

 _Set: during and after the series._

 _Disclaimer: Standards apply._

 _A/N: I have to apologize to CherryPop0120. She was the first to introduce me to Kuroko no Basket. I know which pairing she likes and still, I wrote a Hyuuga/Kiyoshi/Riko threesome one shot she probably doesn't want to read. I'm sorry!:)_

 _Also, I'm not quite happy with the flow of this story. On the other hand, there probably are a lot of other points that come to mind when one wants to criticize this fan fiction._

* * *

 _Tip-Off_

"She is going to kill us! We survived almost three years of High School, of rigorous training and hellish nightmares, we won the Winter Cup and we're on the best way to win this year's Inter High. This is supposed to be the life of our lives at which we'll look back at fondly once we're old and grey-" (between them, it's difficult sometimes to differentiate between humor and sarcasm), "but that won't happen if we die before we're able to graduate!"

Koganei is one of the few Seirin basketball team members who dare say such profanities within ear shot of their coach. _Granted_. He says them very, very quietly and Hyuuga doesn't begrudge him his caution: Aida Riko is a woman to be feared. Even now, when the words cannot possibly have carried all the way to her over the ruckus Kagami is making, who is taking on five first-years with only Kuroko as his partner, her head shoots up and her eyes zone in on the one source of fool-proof anger-venting. And no, it's not Koganei.

It's him.

"Hyuuga."

There was a time when, in Hyuuga Junpei's opinion, Aida Riko's and his relationship could have been described by the term _mutual codependency._ They have, over the time, reached a level in which he would call her his best friend, albeit the fact that it only seems that way when they are on their own. She is a scarily intelligent and a kindhearted person, but _polite_ and _gentle_ are not part of her vocabulary when it comes to the people she coaches. He has somehow resigned himself to the fact that she will rather shout at the people she likes than praise them – and maybe that's why they have been called a couple by many and different class mates, but Hyuuga has managed to shut them all up so far. There is the silent voice in his head that tells him he knows his own heart better than he thinks and he has long come to terms with it, but that still doesn't change the fact that he is just the way he is.

"What? Don't look at me! Your training schedules for the next two months _are_ living nightmares, it's a fact!"

Riko, one meter fifty-six centimeters tall, short-cropped, brown hair and penetrating glare, would manage to look imposing in a pink koala costume.

"What?" She fixes her gaze on him, her hands in her hips, and there is a reason why- "Do you want to win the Inter High, or do you not? We won the Winter Cup by a close call, but all those other high schools won't sit on their bums until the preliminaries. They'll train like hell. And that's what you have to do in order to sport even the tiniest sliver of a chance."

He can't even contradict her when she's being right. "And why are you yelling at me?" He returns, glaring right back. "I wasn't the one who complained!"

"You are the captain-"

"I can't control-"

From above them, somewhere on the bleachers surrounding the gym, someone snorts.

The sound falls into the sudden lapse of silence that has extended to surround them when their discussion started. The first-years seem like a flock of scared chicks, unsure how to react to their coach and captain going at each other like that. Kuroko is sipping at his water bottle like he's watching a good, though not quite overwhelmingly interesting, movie while Kagami is blatantly ignoring them, same as with the other second- and third-years who are used at them going at each other. But the sound didn't come from them.

All eyes turn to the railing above them.

Riko's smile blossoms like flowers after the winter when she sees the person responsible for their interruption. Hyuuga can see it and can see the difference. He has watched her for more than three years now: he can see the way her eyes light up and her shoulders lift almost imperceptibly. There is only one person, he thinks, who can make Riko react like that, and it's not him. By all means, he should be jealous – but he can feel something in his heart settle, as well, as if the world that had been spinning a nanosecond too quickly _(too slowly?)_ has suddenly returned to the old, familiar and beloved rhythm.

As if something lost has returned to him.

Izuki's voice cracks through the silence joyously. "Teppei, you're back! We thought you wouldn't arrive until next week!"

Kiyoshi Teppei grins: tall and lean, fair-skinned and bright-eyed, and his hand rakes through his own hair in a gesture so familiar that it hurts almost physically.

"I missed you guys, so I took the earlier flight."

"Are you allowed to practice again?" –"Play a game with us!" –"How long are you staying?" The other third- and second-years shoot questions towards him like passes while the first-years, confused, stand and gape.

 _He's back._

"Move your ass down here so we can talk to you without straining our necks!" Riko orders and Kiyoshi grins even brighter, throws a salute and disappears up the stairs.

"And you!" The coach turns towards her players. "What are you waiting for? This is called practice, not _lazing around chatting like teenage girls_! Don't you have a training schedule to work on?"

"But coach-" Kagami tries. Kuroko shoots him an amused glance and the buy towering over his smaller partner shuts up obediently and grins. They disappear, herding the thong of first- and second-years before them, followed closely by the grinning third-years. Koganei is practically glowing, Mitobe looks like he's about to smile, Izuki is chatting away and Tsuchida turns and throws Hyuuga a glance. He nods back and starts moving, falls in with their comfortable running and feels his heart beat synchronize with his running rhythm. When they pass through the door of the gym leading outside, Kiyoshi enters on the opposite side, catching his glance for a few seconds.

Even without looking back Hyuuga can feel Riko's beaming smile, like a lighthouse beacon in the back of his mind.

And there, it begins.

* * *

 _First Quarter_

Three years ago they founded a basketball team, and they pledged to become Japan's Number One in high school basketball.

No.

It didn't start that easily. First off, there were disappointments (mainly Hyuuga disappointing himself and others) and fights (mainly Hyuuga fighting Kiyoshi's bottomless, unshakable, unfounded trust that he would join the team) and challenges (mainly Kiyoshi trying to convince Riko to coach them). Until this day, Hyuuga believes that the fact that they have what they have today – a team; and players; and this _thing_ between them that looks like friendship and maybe friendly rivalry and yet is so much more – is all thanks to Kiyoshi. There is no mistaking it. Kiyoshi Teppei was the heart and the soul and the breath that made Seirin's basketball team come to life. He awakened it with endless cheer and enthusiasm, with well-placed bribes and timeless, never-tiring nagging, and all the while he smiled so disarmingly naively that everyone fell for it, even Hyuuga. (It irks him until this day that the stupid idiot with his _we're in this together!_ and his eternal _I'll protect this team!_ has managed to manipulate him so thoroughly.) But beyond all the complications and disappointments, they somehow made it through. Kiyoshi treats them all to sweets his mother prepared the day they meet for practice the first time. Koganei eats his own and half of Mitobe's share. Tsuchida and Izuki compare their manga collection. Riko and Kiyoshi debate training schedules and Hyuuga sits there, in the shadow of the trees in front of Seirin's gym, and thinks that maybe, maybe –

(He still doesn't think that his reasons were unfounded, by the way. This is a cruel, cruel world inhabited by cruel, cruel people and not everyone who gives his best and his everything and who fights and never gives up will actually achieve his goal. That they make it as far as to the Inter High finals is a miracle, one they worked for hard, but it could as well have been a disappointment that would have broken them all.)

That they actually work together as a team is even more awe-inspiring, seeing as they come from completely different backgrounds and sport completely different characters. For one, Mitobe doesn't speak at all and only Koganei can translate his expressions. Izuki more or less annoys everyone with his jokes and stupid puns. Tsuchida is polite and calm, but sometimes he disappears in between the louder members of the team in a way that makes him lose both character and presence. Kiyoshi is annoyingly cheerful, something Hyuuga thinks as mildly (or, _very_ ) offensive, and Riko is – as he very well knew but always ignored because it didn't concern him directly – an outright terror when it comes to practice. He's also very aware of the fact that he's not the easiest person to work with, either, and that's the main factor that makes him hesitate for so long. It's not that he thinks the others wouldn't be a good team – he just thinks that he might not be good for _them_ , after all.

Despite every obstacle his own mind and the world throw at them, however, they make it.

They kind of merge into each other: Riko's well-crafted, if not lethal, personal training schedules and specialized training outlays for each one of them, Kiyoshi's endless energy, Tsuchida's polite gentleness, Mitobe's quiet determination, Izuki's jokes that are received with good-natured jibes and a lot of eye-rolling but that cause them to go try just another time despite their exhaustion, Koganei's sharp tongue and Hyuuga's even sharper make them work at themselves until they work _together_. And Hyuuga realizes that he's a goner far too late: suddenly he's part of them, part of the _team_ , suddenly he's The Captain and in charge. Suddenly, they depend on him and need him and oppose him and listen to him and while he took the job only hesitantly he finds he grows into it like into a perfectly comfortable shoe.

One day they have something like a match. It's a simple training match, their opponents, established and, despite their current lower ranking, not inexperienced, being another high school basketball team from their district. And Seirin wins. Suddenly, they _know:_ they can do it. Hyuuga can see it in Mitobe's and Koganei's high five, in Tsuchida's and Izuki's near-wordless screams of victory. He can see it in Riko's fist, stretched over her head: _Yes!_ He can see it in her face and her shoulders and in her fierce, proud smile, and then he looks at Kiyoshi and sees the same sentiments echoed in his face. And here, maybe, is the first time that he looks at both of them and thinks that maybe, _maybe_ , they are something like his best friends.

It's… a revelation.

And then, as usual, firstly it happens differently and secondly never as one expects it to happen. Seirin loses _Kiyoshi_. Kiyoshi, their rock, their heart, their very own Uncrowned King, and during the next matches they are defeated in numbers so large Hyuuga dreams of them mocking and choking him for a few nights, only to be relieved by nightmares of Kiyoshi never being able to play again. His voice in the hospital room, when he confessed that it was either three years of rehabilitation or a few months and then only one more year of playing basketball, was so quiet Hyuuga barely heard it, much less dared to understand. But what he would remember forever weren't Kiyoshi's words: it was his eyes.

So Hyuuga vows. _You get better, and when you come back we'll become Number One. I promise._ He never went back on his word before, and he does not intend on starting now.

Riko is waiting for him in front of the hospital, sitting on the steps to the large entrance doors, and when he sees her he knows she heard them. But the only thing she says as she falls into step beside him is "I will draft a new practice schedule for the next semester. We'll have to start recruiting first-years, too. The Generation of Miracles won't even look at Seirin twice, but there sure are some talented players out there."

Hyuuga nods without looking at her.

They don't speak anything else on their way back home.

* * *

 _Time Out_

"Now that was just bad luck."

"Shut up," Hyuuga growls through clenched teeth and jumps – _stretches –_ to shoot the next three-pointer. The orange balls curves through the air gracefully, hits the basket, circles the rim and finally drops out of the basket and down to the floor again.

 _Pitiful._

Kiyoshi catches the rebound, aims and scores, beautifully. Not quite two months since his return from the US, where he was hospitalized for his knee operation, he's out on ambulant rehab and sneaking into Hyuuga's single practice time whenever he gets the opportunity. Despite the frighteningly visible limp and the care with which he moves, his shots still are something else. Seeing Kiyoshi like that makes Hyuuga's teeth gnash together almost painfully.

Of course, looking at Kiyoshi was almost physically painful a few years ago already, as painful as looking at -

"What are you still doing here?" Riko calls into the hall, standing in the doorway with her hands in her sides. "I told you, one hour until I lock up for the night! And Teppei, didn't we talk about this? You can't just waltz in every day and strain your knee like that, it has to recover completely-"

All three of them know that no amount of recovery will allow the tall man to ever play basketball professionally again.

"Sorry, Riko, we lost track of the time," Kiyoshi apologizes good-naturedly. "Don't blame Junpei, I forced myself onto him." He starts to make his way towards the exit and stumbles. Or maybe not even that but Hyuuga explodes into movement the same moment Riko takes some quick steps to Kiyoshi's side. Hyuuga freezes again, watching them.

"Stubborn idiot," she scolds, unable to completely ban the affection from her voice. "Here, wait."

Hyuuga watches as she, with a gentleness the girl ( _woman)_ never shows when it comes to training her team, leads Kiyoshi from the field and towards the benches on the side. He leans on her only slightly, but he _does_ , and drops onto the bench with a sigh.

"Thanks."

"You want me to take a look at your bandages?"

"No, that's fine. I'm due for my appointment at four, anyway."

Riko doesn't do fussing, not _ever_ , but this is something close to it. "You know you should take it slow. You'll be able to play again someday, but not if you over-exert yourself right now."

Kiyoshi smiles, sheepishly. "I can't help it. When I see Junpei train I want to, too."

"Oh, that reminds me," Riko says and Hyuuga isn't sure whether it's an attempt to divert Kiyoshi or a genuine memory that just came flooding back. "We have a request for a training match from Shuutoku, two weeks from now."

And Kiyoshi turns towards her, his eyes blazing. "Really? I think the first-years are in good shape, now, between Kagami, Kuroko and Izuki we should be able to…"

Their voices filter away and Hyuuga just watches them. There they are: the sharp, scarily intelligent girl who has been his friend for a long time and something like his best friend for the last two and a half years. And the annoying, stupid boy who resurrected his passion for basketball when Hyuuga had thought he had burned all his dreams and ambitions and scattered the ashes into the wind, the one who had been responsible for the founding of Seirin basketball team in the first place. If Riko is the head of their team, the coach and the manager Kiyoshi always was their heart and their shield, and this hasn't changed with the fact that he can't really play any longer. Riko's eyes sparkle as she outlines her plans and Kiyoshi listens attentively and comments. The two of them sit in a puddle of the last evening light that falls through the high windows and in which dust dances, silver-white, and suddenly Hyuuga cannot breathe.

He knows what's _(who's)_ to blame for the tightness in his chest and the spring tide of emotions surging through him whenever he thinks of it, but he doesn't know how to stop it. He doesn't know how to deal with this, with _them._ With his own heart. So he snaps at Kiyoshi and fights with Riko, and it's made worse by the fact that Kiyoshi just grins good-naturedly and Riko snaps right back. It makes him feel like a stupid, destructive idiot.

And it impacts on his basketball. Hyuuga measures the distance to the hoop again and shoots–

 _waits-_

fails.

When he looks back to Kiyoshi and Riko their heads are bent together in a way that makes their hair mingle; blond and brown and sunshine-earth.

He goes to collect the basketballs.

* * *

 _Second Quarter_

Two years ago they started off the year without their heart, recruited first-years as new players and gained a power forward and a phantom player.

No.

Their heart is still beating, but it is quieter, far away. They can't forget it, but they have to move on. So Hyuuga focuses on their brain, instead, lets Riko take over. Riko, who does her job as team mother hen-slash-coach from hell-slash-big sister beautifully. She's nothing if not resourceful, and Hyuuga– Yeah, well. Hyuuga doesn't even try to be towards the new members what Kiyoshi was to them. It would be ridiculous. He can't even look at his friends and say he likes them – it's like every time he thinks _yes_ , his mouth says _no._ So politeness and kindness are out of question. There is no replacement for Kiyoshi Teppei and for that, and for so many other things, he hates him. Either way, there are different ways to pull them together. Riko makes them run and train, and train and run until they drop, and Hyuuga watches over them with keen eyes, ready to catch them and put them back onto their feet again. It feels… different. It's not only them anymore, Kiyoshi who guarded the post and Izuki who always knew who was where and Koganei who was always ready to be everywhere, take any role, and Tsuchida who supported them calmly and strong and Mitobe who was giving his all. There are these younger students, not exactly inexperienced but so damn _young_ , and despite the one-year-difference Hyuuga feels so freakin' _old_ compared to them.

Their most prominent new members: Kagami and Kuroko.

Together, they become regular players as soon as the others have seen what they are capable of. Yes, Kagami needs refining, and Hyuuga can see the trouble that will await Kuroko once he realizes what the position of his own choice will cost him. It's not that he thinks the boy will ever want to be in the spotlight, that's not how Kuroko seems like and Hyuuga is pretty confident about his people-reading skills. It's rather that Kuroko's a trump card: but he won't be one forever. Hyuuga talks to Riko about it and they agree that they will keep an eye on the two new first-years on the team, but they won't be able to be there every time and everywhere. They can just hope the boys will learn, and grow, and surpass themselves. That's what they themselves still are trying, after all.

"I wish Kiyoshi was here," Riko sighs. "He would know…" And then she stops again, sadness soul-deep in her eyes. And Hyuuga can't help but think _Bastard, I hate you._

Somehow it feels like Riko and Kiyoshi are going out, but he knows they aren't.

Yet.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe they have a chance of winning the Inter High preliminaries. He pictures Kiyoshi's face and pushes the thought away again quickly. It feels wrong, to plan on something like this, like he is trying to realize their dream quickly before Kiyoshi has a chance to participate. But maybe, perhaps, he will be back at the time they get to the main games?

"Knock it off, stupid," Riko says and slaps his head, hard. "We can't afford to go into the preliminary round with you being this half-hearted! What would Kiyoshi say?"

God, he _really_ hates the guy's guts.

That thing aside, Hyuuga observes their new team grow onto each other. It's a strange sense of déjà-vu, of _this has happened before._ And when, after a long day of training, Izuki makes them go out for ice cream, and Kuroko gives them a heart attack because he's just _there_ , and Kagami boasts about his new achievements and his aims loudly and all the seasoned players and the rookies sit around on the grass, comfortably eating their ice cream, Hyuuga thinks that maybe, _maybe_ –

Maybe they can do this.

But it doesn't work. They lose in the preliminaries. One game, one chance lost, one more fruitless try on their stony way towards their aim. It doesn't surprise Hyuuga but he thinks, bitterly, that they could have made it. They were _so close._ It could have worked, really, had they only–

Riko doesn't hit him, for once, but just stands walks next to him the whole way back, and while they don't exchange a word he can hear her. There is a gap between them that's just wide enough for another person. The shape is almost tangible.

"Winter Cup, then," she says when he drops her off at her house. She doesn't say: _Kiyoshi will be back by then. We might just make it with him._ She doesn't say anything else and he's grateful, except he's not.

He nods in response. There's nothing else to say.

They really, _really_ could have stood a chance. Hyuuga blames himself, because he knows neither Riko nor the others did anything wrong. It's just the way it is. _Funny old game._ But hey, he's the _captain_. He should have been able to do something – _anything_ – to make this work. The responsibility of Seirin's basketball team's dreams – they are placed on his shoulders. The thing that doesn't allow him to let go, in the end: he couldn't protect them.

"Riko is right. You are an idiot."

Hyuuga almost stumbles over his own feet at the sudden voice at his left ear and whirls around. Of course. It can only be him.

"Children have to learn that they can't always get it right, don't they? We learned the hard way, as well."

Kiyoshi grins at him, widely, and Hyuuga has the sudden urge to punch him in the face because he's so damn cheerful. He moves backwards instead as to not feel dwarfed by him and glowers at the taller boy.

"Don't pretend you know what I'm thinking about." The things that go unsaid: _What are you doing here, why have you come, how do you know, where were you then?_

"Oh, I don't have to pretend," Kiyoshi returns, endlessly cheerful, and for that cheer alone Hyuuga wants to drop him from the next bridge. "I know what that expression on your face means. Riko told me all about it. So next semester we start training for the Winter Cup. Nothing lost."

Nothing lost? Ha! Inter High lost, is what Kiyoshi means. _I hate you,_ Hyuuga wants to snarl, but it meshes and clashes with _It's my fault alone_ and _I couldn't protect them_ , so he keeps his mouth shut unless any of the pathetic excuses lingering in his mind slip past his lips.

"Come on," Kiyoshi coaxes and slips his arm onto Hyuuga's shoulders. The contact is unwelcome. Hyuuga's skin tingles where he can feel Kiyoshi's body heat and he wants to move away but damn, Kyoshi's arm is heavy. "We have a team to motivate. How is that possible if the captain's a pessimist at heart?"

"I'll gladly hand over the title," Hyuuga shoots back. "It suits you better, anyway."

Kiyoshi smiles, that stupid smile that lets other people believe that he hasn't got enough brain to compare to a piece of toast. That stupid smile that makes Hyuuga's insides go… weird.

"Nah. You stay captain, Junpei, you're the better one of us."

He wants to debate that but that second Riko exits the grocery store, sees Kiyoshi and tackles him with a smile wide enough it makes Hyuuga's head hurt. Or possibly something else.

Next stop: the Winter Cup preliminaries.

Riko trains them and Kagami and Kuroko complement them and Kiyoshi is back, and Hyuuga pushes back the one question he's still unable to answer and _concentrates._ And they make it through the preliminaries.

Sometimes he wonders how this could have happened, really, because there are just so many freakin' obstacles. The members of the Generation of Miracles all prove to be serious opponents and the fact that they are spread out over so many high school basketball teams… Well, let's just say it doesn't make things easier. Hyuuga sees Kuroko encounter his old team mates and watches the small player shrink into himself more and more every time. Kiyoshi and Riko notice, as well, but there's nothing much they can do, really. Kagami is more helpful in that regard. After they defeat Aomine's team there's a small break and when they return again it seems… better. He has no idea what they talked about but it's pretty obvious Kagami and Kuroko came to an understanding. He almost envies them for it. There are other people who talk but fail to talk about what's really important again and again, and that's the worst kind of sound-filled silence.

Oh, and the silence.

Kiyoshi is unsurprisingly unaware – or, as usual, pretending on a professional level – of the suffocating absence of sound that sometime threatens to overwhelm them these days. Kiyoshi is less unaware of Riko; which is something, at least. Riko throws Hyuuga worried glances now and then – or, he chooses to interpret them as worried because he can't think of anything else – but he reacts by bristling with anger or by simply ignoring her, and the world runs its course. Kiyoshi and Riko get together sometimes around the end of the preliminaries, in Hyuuga's eyes a good time to take a breather.

Only he can't breathe anymore when he looks at them.

It always was the three of them before, KiyoshiRikoHyuuga. Now it's KiyoshiRiko, and it hurts more than it should.

Hyuuga focuses on basketball, instead. Really, they put their effort, their sweat and their blood into this. Kagami and Kuroko play together seamlessly and develop in leaps and bounds and it's almost unfair to watch their teamwork progress in such a short amount of time when everything Hyuuga is capable of doing today is the result of years and years of work. He knows, in his heart, that it's not that easy – for Kuroko, at least – but sometimes it feels that way. But really, the two of them are amazing. Together, and each one on their own. They pass through the team like a summer breeze, stir them up and calm them down simultaneously. Everyone, even the first- and second-years confined to the bench, can feel it. And Kiyoshi is back. Seirin's basketball team has a _heart_ again, but even that doesn't solve all the little everyday problems piling up in front of him. Hyuuga wants to weep with happiness on some days and wants to put his head through the wall of the gym on others. Kiyoshi just laughs it off, Riko waves, cheerfully, and promises endless years of pain if they don't do as she says, and the first-years watch, unsure whether to laugh or to run.

"Don't you have better things to do instead of gawking like idiots? Focus on your fucking training _right now_!" Hyuuga yells at them after another lost verbal sparring session with Kiyoshi and they scatter like a flock of sheep. Only they are smiling, and not even his glower scares them from thereon.

"They've got you down," Kiyoshi grins like he has the IQ of toast and hasn't just caused Hyuuga's largest slip of countenance in a long, long time and Hyuuga doesn't know whether to scream and rage or to simply punch him.

Riko throws him an amused glance and he glares at her for good measure, as well.

He catches sight of Kiyoshi and Riko walking home after training from the window. He's careful to have other plans arranged for himself so they can have time all by themselves, he hates them for it and hates himself even more. These are his two best friends. He should be happy for them. But really, he can't. Not when their sight makes him want to scream. The distance between Riko and him has closed: Kiyoshi has melted into the seams and cracks between them. Consequently, Hyuuga broke the bonds that tethered him to her (and Kiyoshi) and moved aside as far as possible. It should make it less difficult but it doesn't. Because besides them being in the same class, and them being in the same club, and them having the same dream and even, for fuck's sake, the same way back home, there is no possibility of completely detaching himself from them. Instead, they seem to follow him wherever he goes.

Of course, his close-to-desperate efforts don't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong with you, Junpei?" When Hyuuga is worried he sounds angry, he knows. Riko – perhaps because she's a woman – sounds _worried._ He turns his head so he doesn't have to meet her eyes.

"Nothing."

"No, Riko's right," Kiyoshi pitches in and it suddenly is impossible to look _anywhere_ , much less to keep his voice calm. "You've been acting weird the whole training camp."

"Everything is fine, okay? Just leave me alone."

Maybe they watch him as he walks away but when he turns, unable _not_ to, their heads are bent towards each other in conversation. Hyuuga blinks away the stinging sensation in his eyes. Stupidly, he wishes they would have continued asking, would have forced him to say what he has no words for, to explain what he can't explain, not even to himself. The fact that they don't, quite unsurprisingly, hurts more than the closeness between them that leaves no space for him. He knows he's searching for answers for a question that is none, really, because what he wishes for is impossible.

Impossibly selfish.

He can't bring himself to care for it, however.

"Junpei-"

"Don't," he snaps at Kiyoshi, "Call me that."

"How can you?" Riko sounds both angry and like she just can't understand what is happening, and how could she when not even Hyuuga understands himself. "You never minded before-"

"Now I do, okay?"

Maybe, at one point, he will have pushed them away to a point from which they won't keep coming back.

They make it into the main round of the Winter Cup.

They make it into the semi-finals.

They make it into the finals.

And then, finally, in the second year after its founding, Seirin high school's basketball team _wins the Winter Cup._

And Riko smiles so, so widely when they finally reach their goal, when they defeat all obstacles and _win_ and Kiyoshi lifts her up and twirls her around and Hyuuga thinks _God, they are beautiful together–_ and then Kiyoshi grabs him so hard he feels his ribs crack and has to elbow the other in the side.

"Let go of me, idiot!"

But Kiyoshi ignores him and pulls Riko into the hug, as well. Kagami is laughing uproariously, Kuroko at his side who actually _looks_ a bit disbelieving at having made that last shot, or perhaps he marvels at the close to nonexistent difference between victory and defeat. Izuki, Mitobe, Tsuchida and Koganei are dancing a victorious rain dance in the middle of the gym and Furihata and the other first-years are yelling at the top of their voices. Riko laughs, triumphantly, and smiles at Kiyoshi and then at _him_. Kiyoshi draws their heads together until Hyuuga can feel his body heat where their naked arms meet and the softness of Riko's hair at his right temple. Protesting, he tries to extricate himself from them but Riko puts her arm around his middle despite his soaked jersey and Kiyoshi's arm around his shoulders is _strong_ and suddenly it's very, very quiet around them. Like the three of them became a bubble of _something_ in a loud room: something quiet, something familiar. It's their very own, oddly-shaped space. Riko's left hand touches Kiyoshi's cheek and Hyuuga feels her other hand move up his side and into his hair, keeping their heads together, when Kiyoshi chuckles and kisses her temple and rubs his nose in Hyuuga's hair and when he blushes crimson and opens his mouth to say something – _anything –_ they just smile.

Hyuuga feels like his entire body is on fire. He tries to break out of their circle, he really does, but his strength fails him. He releases a shaky breath, breathes in again, focuses on his heart beat, closes his eyes. Still, they are too close–

"I told you, didn't I?" Riko says to Kiyoshi, and there is pure joy in her voice.

"You did," Kiyoshi agrees easily, and his long fingers are incredibly gentle where they wrap around Hyuuga's arm.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hyuuga demands and Riko makes a sound that is close to a giggle – Riko, _giggling_?! – and says it.

 _"_ _You like us."_

It makes him furious: He has spent years, literally, trying to deny those feelings only for them to stand there now, stupidly, and look at him like they already know everything he has been thinking, everything he has been trying to forget.

 _You like us._

"So what?" He snaps, crimson.

Kiyoshi chuckles. "So we happen to like you, too."

"Of course." He manages to give his voice the most sarcastic edge he is capable of, considering the fact that he just wants to break down.

"Junpei," Riko says, softly. "We mean it. We _like_ you. So we thought we could give it a try."

"Give what a try?"

"A relationship, you stupid bone head."

"A _relationship_?"

"Are you going to repeat everything we'll say? A relationship. The three of us."

It's the singularly stupidest way he can imagine starting a relationship, and such a crooked one – a _threesome_ , no less, and how the hell is Riko going to explain this to her _father –_ to begin. But he can't even fight them long enough to create a true defense. Riko always was able to walk right through his shield and Kiyoshi just waltzes down all his walls, no matter how thick and reinforced. There is no effective method of warfare against them, no way to make them back off. No way to cut them out of him, however much he would like, because Riko is beautiful, strong and determined and Kiyoshi is protective and cheerful and warm, and Hyuuga can't help wanting to reach out to them. And there are a million ways why it is impossible, a million reasons and a million more excuses (and some reasons are excuses, as well), but there's still the very real issue of what he _feels_. Hyuuga doesn't know anything about love, or romance, or even what exactly it is that defines the one or the other and differentiates it from the friendship he's felt towards Riko and the exasperated annoyance that Kiyoshi always, always without fail manages to bring out in him. Lines, he knows from experience, are drawn to dance upon, but what he does here – what _they_ are willing to do – is closer to stumbling than to dancing.

It feels like something dangerously similar to falling.

"You're serious," he asks, and his voice is very small. He can't remember being this afraid ever before.

In response, they kiss him, butterfly-light. Both.

And Hyuuga gives up, utterly and completely.

* * *

 _Half Time_

This is where it begins.

Or maybe, it began sometime different.

Maybe it began with a boy who had given up and a girl who had been disappointed one time too much, and another boy who helped them re-kindle their love for basketball and for coaching players, who re-awaken their lost dreams. Maybe it began on a sunny spring morning in the school courtyard and the roof – _We, the members of Seirin's basketball club, pledge…_ – or in and in front of a hospital room – _And next year you'll be back and we'll become Japan's Number One_ – or on a court, the crowd all around them roaring in approval: _We made it._ Maybe it began when they first started to notice the awkward and yet strangely familiar dance they were caught in, all three of them: the silences that weren't uncomfortable and yet were, the closeness that was welcome and unbearable at the same time.

Yes.

Maybe it began a long, long time ago.

But then, it feels like something new, no matter when it started. Like sunshine after rain, like the sour sweetness of honeyed lemon slips when one's exhausted and worn and all those other age-old, silly clichées. This place, this moment: a quiet, overwhelming _here we are._ They go well together, better than expected. Riko points out the weaknesses, Kiyoshi judges the distances and Hyuuga links them to each other. It's walking home after training, exhausted and exhilarated, feeling Riko's warmth between them. It's meeting on Sunday afternoons at the small river and dozing in the sun, Hyuuga's head on Riko's stomach and Riko's legs tangled with Kiyoshi's. It's drafting up training schedules and individual practice plans for their fellow players and laughing at the way Hyuuga's forehead scrunches up, at the way Kiyoshi can provoke him with a single glance and word and at the way Riko proudly imitates her father. It's learning for their next exams on rainy days, when the only thing that is heard in the room is the soft scribbling of pens on papers, the rustling of sheets and pages and the wordless sighs that mingle with the scent of tea and cookies. It's giving and receiving; touching and being touched. Like watching Riko's hands card through Kiyoshi's hair, feeling Hyuuga's hand on Riko's nape and hearing the deep rumble of Kiyoshi's voice in his chest. It's falling asleep next to each other, their hands touching but nothing more, their soft breath filling the room and the world and their entire being.

 _So close._

Sometimes Riko reaches out to touch them, almost unconsciously, seeking confirmation and closeness and _them_. Sometimes Kiyoshi stops talking in the middle of a sentence to just _look_ at them and then shakes his head in wordless wonder and grins, almost helplessly. Sometimes Hyuuga wakes up, in the middle of the night, and can't remember how to breathe without them.

Too close, maybe. And, at the same time, not close enough.

The buzzer sounds for the second half.

* * *

 _Third Quarter_

One year ago, they were basking in the afterglow of having won the Winter Cup, reveling in the fact that they had defeated the Generation of Miracles and the Uncrowned Kings, and–

 _Yes_.

 _We did it._

And it's their third and last year in Seirin High School and somehow everything they say or do feels like a good bye.

Hyuuga has been fighting the sense of ending from the moment he set his foot into the school the first day after the holidays, at the beginning of the new ( _their last)_ term. It feels the same – the school feels the same, the classrooms, the chairs and the desks and the dust that dances in the sunlight above the window sills of the gym. Lunch is the same, with Izuki making tooth-achingly bad puns, Tsuchida telling stories about his girlfriend and Koganei translating Mitobe's wordless gestures. Riko doesn't always join them, mostly opting to spend her lunch breaks with the girls. So usually, Hyuuga sees her for classes and for training and when they walk back home together afterwards. And sometimes during the weekends, when he visits her father's gym on rainy Sunday mornings or they meet for an hour after his old man's barber shop closes or she visits him there and just watches him work out or when they go to the cinema in the evening and she is simply _there._ So alive. It's _breathtaking:_ the fact that she chose him, too, that she looks at him with that secret smile in her eyes that she only used to give –

 _Yeah._

And that's the one thing they can't get over, neither one of them. They are together, they love spending the time together, but something is missing. Someone. And his absence is a physical pain, much like phantom pain: the knowledge that he's not there but he, damn well, _should_ be.

So they start their third year at Seirin High and the classes and the practice hours and their free time and their exam preparation melt into each other seemingly seamlessly. But there is an absence in the shifts and spaces between them and it affects them both similarly. The entire team notices it, even the mint-green, fledgling rookie first-years who only ever heard rumors of the player they call _Iron Heart_.

The entire team, too, seems to be in denial about the fact that the third-years won't be around for long and Hyuuga isn't particularly willing to remind them of it again and again. But someone has to do it. So if he's a bit extra sharp and pushes the newbies and the second-years extra harshly, nobody really notices. Except, of course, for Riko, and she just smiles.

One afternoon during practice, a particularly gangly first-year misses his shot and the ball rebounds at the wall, missing Hyuuga, who is practicing three-pointers to the side, by centimeters. Hyuuga draws in air and turns to glare at him but his attention is momentarily distracted by a flash of red, black and golden – and then it's gone again. His eyes move to Riko who is discussing something with Kagami. As if she feels his eyes on her, her head turns: she takes in the scene (Hyuuga, the first-year, the first-year's team mates) and evaluates it, and then she shrugs and smiles. And Hyuuga is stuck by how small her smile is, and how the longing mirrors his own. So that's as far as they go.

"Watch it, brat," is everything he says.

Later that day, he accidentally happens to eavesdrop on a conversation in the locker room: "I thought he would yell at you!"

"Yeah, but he was pretty nice back there, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I was surprised. Maybe he's not as scary as we thought."

It makes him want to laugh. He probably should uphold his reputation as Seirin's harsh, impolite team captain. But right now he can't focus on getting angry. It's like he needs Kiyoshi to really work himself up: Riko probably is right when she says he is harshest with the people he likes most.

Likes. Loves. Is there a difference? Hyuuga says "I hate you" to Kiyoshi and "I like you" to Riko, and somehow both means the same to him. Is that wrong?

They're close. So what? The distance is still too great to bridge it. He never would have believed it, three years ago, but now it feels like some integral part of him is missing. Kiyoshi's absence is like a gaping hole, as little as Hyuuga wants to admit it. That stupid, obnoxious, block-headed idiot never ceased to amaze him and anger him in equal parts in the past and he's pretty sure Kiyoshi won't change a bit in that regard. Hyuuga really, truly is annoyed by the other one's relentless good humor and cheerful attitude again and again, he hates that carefree smile that makes everyone think its bearer can't even count to three. He hates the reckless abandon with which the tall boy throws himself into the games and the heart that causes Kiyoshi so much grief because he _cares_ so damn much, the strength of it that encompasses this entire team and the world. He hates that Kiyoshi gambled everything and lost in order to protect them and in order to play with them one more year. He hates that he hates it, because usually, he shouldn't be spending that much energy on something this trivial. But he can't help himself: Kiyoshi is an idiot.

An absent idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

And sometimes, when his name is mentioned during their training he catches Riko's glance and has to brace himself in order not to shudder and fold into himself. He sees her fists tighten and knows she thinks the same, and at least they're together while Kiyoshi is –

(Because the idiot is self-sacrificing to a fault and if he happens to convince himself that they're better off without him, Hyuuga swears, he will look for him and find him and rebound basketballs off him until Kiyoshi comes back to his senses.)

But overall, they're fine. Hyuuga is determined to leave Seirin's basketball team a bit better than it was when he first found it. It's not that hard, granted, seeing as they literally _founded_ the team (he gets a headache thinking of the puns Izuki would make listening to this particular train of thought of his). But with him, Koganei, Izuki and Tsuchida, four regular team members are going to leave before the winter break and because Kuroko, Kagami, Furihata and the other second-years are doing well and they have at least ten first-years who are blindly determined to play basketball no matter the cost, they have a good starting point. But Riko will leave, as well, and they won't only need a helping hand but they'll need a coach, too. And a new captain. Hyuuga has his reservations and thoughts, but he's not ready to share them yet.

Not as long as the Inter High Tournament is still coming up, and…

He suppresses the thought. He's not the only one who's practicing temporary denial but right now they can get away with it. The second- and first-years don't really realize it yet. Graduation is a far-away prospect for them. But the third-years know and they huddle together as if to protect themselves and each other from an icy, foreboding wind.

All of them are waiting for something.

(At this point, Hyuuga isn't really sure whether each of them know what they are actually waiting _for._ )

And days pass, and weeks, and things are the same and change and don't and aren't.

And finally, _finally_ , one day Riko almost trusts her phone into his face after training and says "Check your messages, idiot!" and Hyuuga has to fight his instincts to run back to the locker room.

He almost bursts into _something_ when he sees the same message on his phone.

Kiyoshi returns on a beautiful fall day, his knee in a flexible cast and his smile wide as the universe, and _something_ settles again.

* * *

 _Time Out_

And then, just like that, it's the last week before the exam-revision weeks start.

Their last game is a tournament match. Riko briefs them on their opponents and Kiyoshi on their strategy, and then he grins at them and says the words Hyuuga never thought he'd miss one day. Seirin's team fans out over their half of the court and the entire warm-up, the entire first half and the entire second Hyuuga can feel both of his friends' eyes on him. It's almost physical, as if they have reached out to touch his shoulders. And Hyuuga knows what it means. So he runs and he passes and he scores like it's the last thing he will do. He focuses on the team the same way Kiyoshi would doand draws them in and pushes them forward the same way Riko would do. And their iron security and strength carry him forwards. Seirin wins with a twenty-three point lead and makes third place in the Inter High. And when the first-years and second-years start to turn towards the locker rooms, when the opponent team has already left the court and the audience is filing out of the doors, they exchange one last glance: Mitobe, Tsuchida, Koganei, Izuki, Hyuuga, Kiyoshi and Riko.

From that day on, the third-years don't participate in basketball practice anymore.

They have a farewell party of sorts. Hyuuga hands down the captain title and Riko's father throws his head back and laughs at the sight of the terrified brats confronted with him as their next coach. Kagami eats half of his own body weight in meat and Kuroko scares the shit out of the waiter when the man asks who ordered the last, as yet unclaimed dish and Furihata and his friends start playing silly table games that involve a lot of finger-drumming on the table top and Mitobe, Koganei, Izuki and Tsuchida talk about what they are going to do with their free time. "They'll study or I'll hand them their asses," Riko threatens but nobody except for Hyuuga and Kiyoshi hear her. And the three of them sit in a corner and Kiyoshi smiles and Riko laughs and Hyuuga can't even bring himself to glare at them. But he can't really smile, either. It feels like if he does _something_ it might rip him open with bone-shattering force and he will never be able to staunch the flow.

And right now, it's not a good feeling.

Riko leans forward to catch something Teppei says and strands of her hair move softly in the gust of Teppei's exhalation. She looks so vivid, so brilliant, that it hurts to watch her. Teppei is similar: so strong, so alive and so fucking close. He wants to reach out and touch them both, wants to draw them in, inhale them and never let go – but he just sits there and watches them enjoy their evening out. They are perfect together. It's not the first time he has thought this and it won't be the last time. The tightness in his chest is suffocating. Riko says something and it is directed at him, when he splutters because he, obviously, hasn't listened, she turns to Kiyoshi and they exchange an exasperated, fond glance. The intimacy of their shared feelings makes his heart ache. Riko's hand ghosts over his in apology and Teppei knocks his knee against him – blast the man, his legs are so damn long! And when they go home he lets Riko walk between them, lets her slip her hand in his and knows she is holding Teppei's hand on the other side.

He knows he has to let go, but he can't bring himself to do it.

Pretty soon, however, they forget everything and anything, because the exam preparation and the exams and the university applications roll over them like Taikou featuring all members of the Generation of Miracles at once would have steam-rollered Seirin four years ago – had Seirin existed at that time.

"Oh God, my head's exploding!" He complains one day. Riko throws him an admonishing glance and then offers him the last cookie and Teppei grins and leans forward to whisper something in Riko's ear. Somehow they end up on the floor, all three of them, laughing almost desperately. For precious ten minutes, the exams are forgotten.

That – ten minutes, give or take – also is the average time Hyuuga can tell himself that everything will be alright.

Riko and Teppei notice. Of course they would. He knew they would – he had just hoped, foolishly, that they would not mention it. Why he thought he could fly under the radar for such a long time is beyond him: he would have to tell them eventually. Sometimes he's even convinced they already know, but then, this is Teppei who can go on pretending for all that's worth and Riko, scarily sharp, who still has enough to study and work that she might not mention it. But there is no way she _wouldn't_ notice. And besides, it isn't as if the topic wouldn't come up at one point or another.

Everything passes, even exams.

The snow turns into icy, wet slush. The grey of the houses is never less appealing than in the half-time between winter and spring and suddenly the exams are over and the third-years are left like broken puppets without anyone to hold their strings. Two months until graduation.

Two months, Hyuuga thinks, and has to screw his eyes shut in order to stop himself from… Whatever. He's not crying. He won't, absolutely not.

Two months. One.

"Hey – wait – I said _wait_!"

Hyuuga's spluttering angrily and flushing with annoyance when they drag him out of his old man's barbershop on a Saturday morning. Both Kiyoshi and Riko entered three minutes ago, exchanged a few polite words with the old lady that comes in to have her perm set every month, and dragged Hyuuga away from in the middle of his work without as much as a word of explanation. He barely has the time to drop the pouch full of scissors, razors and clips he is carrying. His father calls after him, half-annoyed, half-amused, and Hyuuga squirms away from their grasp (marching him out like a criminal, what the _flying f-_?!) and whirls to look at them, five meters onto the street.

" _What the hell?!"_

His jacket smacks straight into his face.

"Put this on," Riko orders, and he knows better than to refuse. Besides, it's still cold. The wind dances through the streets and there's nothing _scent-of-spring-my-ass_ , as Teppei so cheerfully offers. Hyuuga drags both his arms through the sleeves forcefully.

"Explanation, _now_ ," he barks with what Koganei used to call his Captain's Voice.

"This is an intervention," Kiyoshi drawls, cheerful. Like Riko, he hasn't even the decency it takes to look as if he at least feels a scrap of guilt.

"An _intervention_?! Have you lost your freakin' minds?"

Riko puts her hands in her sides. She looks intimidating, as usual, and anger simmers around her like heat above the pavement in the middle of summer. That's what he usually gets: a girlfriend and a boyfriend, one fucking friendly, one plain scary, and Hyuuga has no idea what this all is about except–

Except there is the tell-tale glimmer of tears in Riko's eyes and a tightness around Teppei's lips that looks surprisingly like anger, and that's _impossible._ Riko doesn't cry, not _ever_ , and Hyuuga hasn't seen Teppei _angry_ like this since Kirisaki Daichi tried to get at them again during this year's Inter High. (This time, they'd been ready, though, but Riko still had to grab Kiyoshi's arm and _hold_ him when their opponents had tried their usual strategy.) Riko is the strongest person Hyuuga knows and Kiyoshi is practically incapable of holding a grudge, much less being angry. So why are they standing there, glowering at him, like he's done something unforgivable?

"I'm giving back the question." Riko crosses her arms over her chest and to Hyuuga, it looks suspiciously like she's hugging herself instead of making a point. "You're coming with us, Junpei. We need to talk."

His heart stutters to halt. If he doesn't move - pretend he hasn't heard her, maybe then, the implications of what she has just said won't – won't what? Reach him? Affect him? He's not sure. His mind is blank. Strange how the words he has turned over and over in his head for the past few weeks break him when they come from _them_.

"Oh, for God's sake," Kiyoshi says and some of the hardness in his eyes disappears. "Don't look like that! We're not breaking up."

"What?" Riko loses her composure momentarily, turning towards Teppei. "Who said anything about breaking up–" She turns back to him to look at him and her eyes turn soft. "Idiot. You're the one keeping secrets, not us. Now, come on. Let's go for a coffee."

They frame him: Riko to his left, Teppei to his right. Riko winds her arm around his and tucks her hand into his pocket. Teppei's shoulder touches his now and then. They're so, so close – but it's still not enough. He wants them to fold them into himself until they become a real, physical part of him.

He wants –

The café is quiet. There are few people clustering around the tables, mostly elder people. They ignore the three still-but-not-for-long-anymore high school students in their midst with polite disinterest and turn away again. The waitress asks them whether they finished their exams and Teppei flashes her a trademark smile of his while Riko chats a bit about how good it is to finally be finished with high school. Their orders arrive pretty quickly. Hyuuga watches the barista clean the coffee machine and he doesn't, really, he's not even thinking anything because his head is completely blank. He doesn't notice that the usual background sound of Riko's and Teppei's conversation dies down but the sudden silence makes him whip his head around. He's so attuned to them he could predict their reactions, only they don't say anything and for the first time in his life he cannot read them. In the ensuing silence, Hyuuga has to duck his head and concentrate on stirring his coffee. He can feel Riko and Teppei watching him, two sets of gazes so familiar that he would know them everywhere.

Teppei – Teppei, of all, the one guy of whom you'd think he'd never, _ever_ notice something like that – finally breaks the silence. It sounds like the accusing whistle of the referee at a foul one knows one could have avoided delivering but did, nevertheless.

"You're hiding something from us."

Hyuuga's hand freezes in the air for a second until he catches himself and carefully places his spoon back on the coaster.

"And what would that be?"

"You tell us." Riko's eyes are bright as stars, but not with joy. The flickering flames of doubt and fear he hasn't seen since Teppei was injured for the first time are back again and he hates it. Hates himself for making her feel that way, in the first place. "You've been absent-minded for the whole past weeks. You don't talk to us during lunch. You don't walk back home with us. You don't listen, or just don't talk to us. And your three-pointer accuracy has gone down by seventy-three percent. The last time this happened…"

 _You feel the same, right?_

Teppei's huge hand comes up, settles on hers briefly. And there it is again: them against him, _KiyoshiRiko_ against Hyuuga, and he has no idea what to do or what to say.

 _Maybe,_ a tiny voice in his head supplies, _the truth?_

The truth: here it goes. "I decided which university I'll be going to."

Silence.

Then, Teppei: "I suppose you wouldn't say it like that if you had chosen the local one."

Hyuuga can see the same fear in Riko's and Teppei's eyes that gnaws at his guts.

"Where?" Riko's voice is uncharacteristically small.

He tells them.

"But that's…" Words fail her. It's the first time since he remembers knowing her that he sees this happen.

"Something like 400 km away," Teppei finishes.

They look at each other, wordlessly. Outside, on the patch of street visible through the window next to their table, a dog streaks past, followed closely by a child. It trips and falls, hard. A few seconds of shocked silence until the mother rushes in and the little boy starts crying: large, heaving, hiccuping sobs that shake his entire body. Hyuuga thinks that maybe crying like this would rid him of at least some of the bitter, poisonous thoughts he has had for the past months, but somehow he just can't cry. Can't even be angry anymore.

Riko whispers the words, but they remain as true as the last thousand times he told himself, over and over.

"We won't be together anymore."

Hyuuga looks at her and at Teppei. "But the two of you will be." And then he does something he's never (never _really_ , at least) has done before: he gets up and walks away from them.

* * *

 _Fourth Quarter_

In one year's time, Teppei and Riko will meet at the entrance of the university. Teppei will kiss her, and Riko will whack him because hey, they're not the ones for public displays of affection, and, like always, it will feel like starting all over–

No.

That'll not be the beginning, it will be an in-between.

Riko always knew what she wanted to be when she grew up. It was partly due to her father and partly due to someone else entirely. Helping out in her father's gym, she learned by observation: how muscles built up, how which exercise strengthened which part of the human body, how much training was possible until more became a disadvantage. Aida Kagetora edged her on, subtly, and she believes, up to the day, that he wouldn't have done so had she showed no inclination whatsoever for personal fitness and coaching. But luckily, she did. So he taught her patience and observation, strength and how to wield the authority that came with her newly found knowledge. Together, they watched videos of his old basketball matches as well as of current games, both in Japan and in the U.S. Her father taught Riko what to look at straight and what to only observe from the corner of her eyes, discussed tactics with her, checked over the training plans she developed and took her to his gym to let her observe first-hand. Riko knew very early what she wanted to become. It felt only natural – especially after the position she had occupied at Seirin High – to train as a personal coach after she graduated high school.

Teppei always knew he wanted to play basketball, whatever would happen in the future. As it was, fate had had a good laugh at him in that regard, so so much for that: He can still walk – even better, he can still play – but he won't ever play professionally again. When Junpei heard what Teppei had decided to become after graduation, he muttered something, and Teppei laughed because as usual, Junpei was _accurate_. Of course, he was also stingy and sarcastic and some would have regarded his friend's words as unkind, but Teppei knew Junpei, and Junpei knew Teppei would hurt, but would accept it as the truth. And, also, as a truth that wasn't uttered to hurt him.

"Those who can do it, those who can't teach."

Riko jammed her elbow into Junpei's side extra painfully for that, but Teppei just smiled.

Besides, he loved kids.

Working with kids was easy. Playing with them was even easier: they had the bright, unbroken enthusiasm so many people lost with growing up, and their will to win burned so bright it threatened to blind him on some days. Every loss was earth-shattering, granted, but every victory all the sweeter. There were hot-headed kids that reminded him of Kagami; calm, quiet ones like Kuroko; enthusiastic ones like Koganei and Izuki; reliable players who remained in the background like Tsuchida and Mitobe; and even the one or other kid that reminded Kiyoshi of himself. Training was cheerful and the time flew by so quickly sometimes the parents coming to pick their kids up had to remind him of it, and when the brats left the court one after the other and shouted their good byes at him Kiyoshi didn't think there was a better job than this one.

Riko's love for basketball had started when she met a dark-haired, bespectacled boy with singular determination and a weird habit of becoming super-intense in the last minutes of his own personal training. He came to her father's gym trice a week, unfailingly, and always was the last to leave. Riko's love for basketball developed in the same way her acquaintance with Hyuuga Junpei developed: quickly, with rising intensity and with a really, really bad middle part but he made it up to her in a million different ways. If she could count on nobody and nothing Riko would still be able to rely on him when he entered clutch mode. And she'd always admired him, always watched him, always would be proud of him. But when it came to it, she wasn't able to share the joy of basketball with him _on the field._ It was her greatest regret.

Teppei had loved basketball since the recruiters had put him out on the field one day and he had realized what good he could do with his overgrown stature and his huge hands. But that had only ever been the beginning, because the greatest part of his love for the game had grown from the people he had practiced and played with. There had been some bad apples here and there but the reason why he never had quit had been the people he got to play with. Teppei had founded Seirin's team practically by himself using only sheer gall (according to Junpei) and his charm and good looks (according to Riko), but he'd done it both for the game and for the people. Saying he had been attached to his fellow players would have been like saying touching the surface of the sun would cause a mild burn. For the chance to play one more tournament season with this team Teppei had given up on a future career in basketball, and he knew he would do it again. If Junpei hadn't been there to set him straight over and over again, Teppei probably would have damaged his knees to the point of no return because damn, he loved the game. He also would have broken, sometime along the way: but Riko had fixed him up and Junpei had yelled at him. And Teppei had realized that he loved the game, but that he loved them even more.

Neither Riko nor Teppei were good in giving up things they loved.

And so, one year after graduation, they will be there, right where they stand now, and will smile while they walk down the road.

Teppei will lace their fingers together. Riko will let him.

They will still be there, and they won't be going anywhere.

The streets will be lively with the afternoon light of a January Saturday. Riko and Teppei will walk down the street in quiet conversation, until they reach the busy bus station. They will sit down on a bench, waiting, talking. A bus will stop. People will disembark. Others will get on. The bus will blink and pull out again.

"You idiots will catch a cold if you sit out here in the middle of winter!"

Hyuuga will glare at them, won't want to stop looking at them as they sit there smiling up at him: Riko with her red, warm jacket that makes her stand out so brightly no matter where she goes and what she does, her ears and cheeks flushed with cold, her hands buried in her pockets. And Teppei, his scarf wrapped all the way around his face, his eyes sparkling like the sunlight that breaks through the grey snow clouds and refracts from the icy crystals hanging from the station's roof.

Their sight will make his heart stop, hesitate and expand, every time anew.

"Junpei!" Riko will jump up, wrap her arms around him and drag him into a hug. Hyuuga will still loathe public displays of affection. But he will know that this is Riko and he will have missed her and he will, deep down, know that holding her close is the only thing he can do to fill the oddly shaped holes in his heart that have developed over the past months.

"Welcome back."

Teppei will grin and drag him into a hug, as well, and he will ignore Hyuuga's spluttering and half-hearted struggle to get away.

And something in Hyuuga's heart will shift, as it always does at the sight of these two people he loves more than anything else in the world. Something will creak and settle into place; and looking at Riko's flushed face and Teppei's happy, stupid grin, Hyuuga'll know he's home again.

 _I love –_

Kiyoshi will hit him in the face with a snow-ball before he can even think of formulating his thoughts out loud.

Hyuuga will splutter and spit and curse, his hands will wipe at his glasses effectively, and he'll hear Riko laugh in the background. Her laugh is beautiful: light and clear.

Teppei will continue grinning as if nothing has happened while Hyuuga still will be trying to get the snow out of the collar of his jacket. The snow will be wet and cold and will make him shiver. Without thinking, he will ball the rest of the snow to something vaguely round-shaped and Teppei will _eep_ like a stupid kid and will start running.

Hyuuga's shot will miss him by centimeters, despite his tall and broad stature, because he ducks just in time.

"I hate you!"

"Yeah, yeah," Kiyoshi will say and will ruffle his hair and Riko will take his arm and smile at them brightly. And Hyuuga will feel like seventeen again, stupid and full of dreams and fears of the future and stupidly in love with his two best friends.

The distance that never was there in the first place closes with an inaudible sound.

* * *

 _Overtime/Flashback_

Hyuuga knew, when he bolted and hid, that Riko knew exactly where he was going and that Kiyoshi would find the right words to make her show him and follow him along. It's not a consolation, the fact that his best friends and lovers know exactly how to handle him when he gets like this.

(Or maybe it is?)

His father had asked him: _How important is this to you?_ His mother had told him: _We'll always stand with you._

And Hyuuga knows that this is his choice, this is his future, and he _wants_ it. Disturbingly, he wants it as much as he wants _them._ Basketball is his passion but he is realistic enough to see that he won't be playing professionally – at least not for long. What he is, he became through hard work and endless determination, but he's no prodigy like the Generation of Miracles or Kagami. On the other hand, Hyuuga likes to pick apart a team's strategy with Riko. He has a knack for seeing little things, something that has served them well whenever they watched their opponents' games, and his mind is cool and calculating. Hyuuga would enjoy working as a sports journalist or game analyst, somewhere along the line, picking apart games and analyzing tactics and players. The one obstacle he encounters is that the only university offering this kind of education is four-hundred something kilometers away from here.

 _So what are you going to do, Junpei?_

That's really not the question here, he thinks. Almost angrily, close to desperate. The question is, what are the others going to do? He knows the answers to that. Riko and Teppei have already chosen their future. They have talked about it again and again.

And if Hyuuga really wants to do this, he will have to leave.

250 miles is a distance to wide even for the three of them.

(And then it works out, because it's _them._ He would never have thought it possible.)

The buzzer that rings out for the end of the game sounds suspiciously like an opening whistle.

* * *

 _Victory Celebration_

"Of course he's there, the door's open, can't you see?"

Riko's voice, Riko's footsteps, followed by Teppei's. Junpei doesn't move from where he's standing: right at the free-throw line in Seirin's gym. It is only lit by the sunlight falling in through the dusty windows.

So this is it, he thinks.

"Junpei." Teppei's voice is almost soft. He always was kind, somewhat like a huge, cuddly teddy bear, but this sound is new. Or, was new, at least: by now it's familiar. As familiar as the way Riko's hand touches his arm, sending a tingling warmth through it. Junpei turns towards them and holds his breath, because the realization of seeing them – there, together, in this place that might be his favorite place on earth – feels like he has been hit with a tractor at full-speed.

It's acute, this feeling of vulnerability he encounters once he thinks they might leave him. A bone-jarring, mind-shattering fear bubbling so close under the surface that he is convinced it should, by all rights, spill out in thick gushes whenever it finds an opening, should diffuse through his skin and waft up in thick, grey clouds. Fear, he has learned, colors the world grey. The fear of evolving, the fear of giving up, the fear of going on. The fear of surrendering to what one loves, out of fear, once again, of never reaching it. The fear of seeing one's dream directly in front of one and not daring to reach out.

What he also has learned: how wonderful it is to have people who share his passion and his beliefs, people who stand tall when he falters, people who rely on him when they stumble. People he can expect to slap him when he's particularly stupid ("So, like, every day?" Riko looks pensive and he gets a weird feeling looking at her), people he can trust that they will help him protect what they love ("Because," Teppei laughs, "You clearly are too stupid for your own good," and Hyuuga elbows him in retaliation. He wants to say "Kettle. Black." But he knows that sometimes, silence and a glare are better than fighting back verbally and losing the moral high ground). Hyuuga Junpei has learned how good it feels to be someone other that students – younger ones, in particular – trust and rely on, and how gratifying the flash of happiness in the eyes of said people is when he relies on them, in return. He has learned to fight. He has learned to never give up. He has learned to drag himself out of the mud by his own hair and with the help of others, again and again, and that doing one's best isn't always the answer to the question posed. He has learned to remain calm under duress. He has learned the feeling of Riko's hands and Teppei's overwhelming closeness, the way Riko uses to sing almost tonelessly no matter where she is and how Teppei looks when he's fallen asleep over his books once again. He knows how waking up feels when the two most important people in one's life are spread out next to him. He knows how they look when they are happy, sad, tired, drowsy, angry, weary, aroused and satisfied. He knows the feeling of being whole. He knows the sensation of losing something important, the glory of winning, and the completeness that comes with being with both Riko and Teppei.

Hyuuga Junpei has learned a lot of things in the past three years. He also knows, with a startling clarity that rushes over him, dizzyingly: this is not the end.

"Junpei, let's go!"

They smile at him, and he has the very real sensation of falling. He turns towards the basket, gauges the distance, weights the ball, throws. It curves through the air, gracefully, and sinks into the basket. A perfect three-pointer.

Hyuuga catches the rebound and drops the basketball into the ball box on his way to the door. Riko and Teppei are waiting for him outside and the doors close, gently. Riko locks up and turns around with a sigh. Teppei grins and leans down to drop a kiss on her head and one on Hyuuga's lips. Riko just smiles and pats his hand and Hyuuga splutters and blushes but he doesn't move away. Teppei throws one arm around Riko – which means she can comfortably tuck herself into the crook of his arm – and Riko pulls Hyuuga closer until their sides touch, holding on to his arm. The warmth is instantaneous.

"Here's to surviving three years of High School, pretending we knew what we were doing!" Riko says.

 _Here's to the rest of our lives._

They leave the gym behind without a single backwards glance.


End file.
